


if, by chance, the violence thrills

by slashsailing



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Domestic Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fisting, Knifeplay, M/M, Mild Gore, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mirror Universe, Rimming, Sexual Content, Sexual Violence, Tattoos, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashsailing/pseuds/slashsailing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Kirk's life changed the day he met Leonard McCoy at a medical conference he never wanted to attend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if, by chance, the violence thrills

**Author's Note:**

> This snowballed from a tumblr post about mirror-teen!Jim tying you to a chair and telling you everything he was going to do to you—of course my brain turned this into a McKirk, what else was I supposed to do? Good luck and be warned, it's certainly messed up in places.

Jim is fourteen the first time he ever lays eyes—electric blue, like Cardassian viper venom—on Leonard McCoy. He’s been dragged along to some exhibition by Sam; it’s actually cooler than he thought it would be. Sam’s into genetics, you see, and wants to go into _research_. Jim’s more of an action kind of guy. And so when they arrive in the auditorium and Jim catches sight of all the pretty people trapped in cages, still alive and looking positively terrified, his heart races. _Maybe this won’t be a waste of time after all_ , he thinks.

They are traitors of the Empire, sold to the highest bidder - who just so happens to be an obscenely wealthy Southern doctor. Jim watches, enraptured, as David McCoy cuts into each body, demonstrates the pain thresholds of his test-subjects and harvests their organs, all the while giving detailed explanations of the precise workings of the human body.

The explanations are not as captivating and Jim’s mind, and eyes, wander. There is a young man sitting at the side of the stage, he watches the proceedings with a cold sort of detachment, like he’s seen it all before. Maybe even done it himself. Jim gets up from his seat, eyes dart to him and Sam mutters something derisive under his breath. But Jim carries on forward, heading closer to the stage. Luckily for him there is an empty seat in the second row – it’s a _much_ better view.

From here he can see the younger man’s features, the heavenly bone structure and the dark eyes. He scowls at Jim when he catches the teen staring.

Jim just grins.

When the lecture is over Sam tries to usher Jim out of the hall and start their journey back from Georgia, they have a shuttle to catch in forty-five minutes and Frank will beat Sam into oblivion if they’re late. But he won’t touch Jim, he tried once and lost his left hand, so the teen can’t _really_ see the problem; he walks away from Sam, ignoring his brother’s protests.

This guy has cheek bones that could kill. And his eyes aren’t as dark as Jim first thought, maybe they’re green, maybe they’re amber, Jim can’t pin them down. He likes that. Kind of hopes the person behind the eyes will provide a similar challenge.

And his lips are pure sin.

They’re full and would look beautiful cut open and bloody or bruised a dark purple. A thick, pouty, lower bow over set by the pert little ‘m’ of his top lip. They’re a ruddy pink—the lips—and Jim is reminded of the ancient art of the classic Grecians or of the Renaissance. To possess this creature would be to own something holy. Like an arc-angel or Adam.

And Jim would _love_ to be his Lucifer.

Jim climbs up onto the high stage with relative ease; to some it might even look graceful. One fluid motion, as if he were winged. The young man, however, remains unimpressed. Jim raises an eyebrow. Questioning. He hates when his hard work goes unappreciated. When his efforts are ignored.

“Jim Kirk.” He introduces.

The man looks up at him, Jim likes seeing him from this angle. The lines of his jaw are beautiful and Jim spares a thought or two for imagining what it would be like to see this guy on his knees. Looking up with adoration and not spite.

“McCoy.” He says slowly and Jim gets gooseflesh at the sound. “Leonard McCoy.”

 _Leonard?_ Jim thinks with a frown. That’s not right at all. Not for a face like that or a voice as dulcet as his. It’s like dripping, gloopy honey; it’s lustrous and succulent sticky. Something decadent. And Jim wants it poured onto his body, inside his soul.

“No.” Jim shakes his head. He can’t call this creature _Leonard_. He won’t.

“No?” He questions.

“With a face and a body like yours I can’t call you _Leonard._ ” Jim explains, smiling shark-like.

“Don’t worry about it kid, you don’t gotta call me anythin’.” McCoy counters with a scoff – it offends Jim on a moral level that some doctor’s-hand would dare scoff at _him_. Jim takes a step closer but the other man just straightens his back, pushing the broad plain of his chest out further. “Because you’ll be headin’ on your way now, won’t you?” It’s a warning. There is an edge to his voice, almost a growl – almost _indecent_. Jim leers.

“Bones.” Jim says, flicking his gaze down to the tattoos inked on the inside of the other man’s hands.

“Look kid, why don’t you try and catch up with your parents before you lose them.” McCoy sighs, there is something genuinely _caring_ to his tone and Jim’s heart sings. Prey on the weak and the vulnerable – that’s how Jim works, looks for those who are too kind, too generous and he rips them apart from the inside out.

McCoy was _made_ for him.

But his new quarry is sneering down at him, look of complete abjection plastered across his face – Jim wants to slap him. Instead he takes McCoy by the wrist, levels their gazes and presses his thumb nail into the soft skin over the veins. McCoy doesn’t pull away, just watches Jim, other hand slipping to his hip, reaching for his weapon maybe. Jim leans forwards, whispers _behave, Bones_ and kisses McCoy’s cheek. It’s lingering, something that might look _reverent_ to onlookers. When Jim’s tongue flicks out McCoy jerks back.

“Go home, Kirk.” He huffs. There are accusations and threats and, no doubt, foul language that remain unsaid. McCoy just turns away from him, strides over to David McCoy who is entertaining someone who looks important by cutting into the brain of one of the transgressors. They are alive as McCoy pokes around their head and the sound of their screams bring a smile to Jim’s face.

Now he needs a plan.

#

He thinks about Bones a lot over the next two years, apparently he’s a medical student at some university in Mississippi, specialising in osteopathy and neurology – Jim doesn’t overlook the contrasting nature of the two fields – he’ll admit it confuses him. The only answer Jim has is that Bones wants to master the structure of the human body, all the better to help him conquer it. Taking people apart from the core – Jim admires that.

Jim also discovered he was engaged to a young socialite named Jocelyn Darnell - a pretty girl, sure, but not very bright, and not at all difficult to locate. Jim had used her as the biggest stepping stone in his, now overt, acquisition of Bones.

So he’d seduced her one weekend as she was dress shopping in Atlanta.

He’d took her to a nice hotel, bought her a few drinks, sweet-talked her into the penthouse, fucked her, slit her throat and sent her heart to David McCoy, in apology for wrecking all his hard work.

The letter attached simply read:

_you don’t need the Darnells, you have a Kirk_

-       _James_

David begins corresponding with him – calls his destruction of Jocelyn _artful_ and informs him that his son will be returning to Georgia at the end of the year.

So when Jim graduates high school a few months after his sixteenth birthday he books himself on a shuttle to Savannah and doesn’t look back. Winona had wanted him to go to college but Jim had never felt like it was the right path, not for a mind like his. He can learn everything and anything he wants on his own. He’s got more important things to master; advanced astrophysics is nothing in comparison to how tricky Bones is.

He arrives in Georgia; David McCoy meets him off the shuttle and grins. It’s predatory and Jim wonders if the man isn’t a slight pederast – it makes a flare of green anger burst up his spine, even the thought of another person getting their claws into Bones, past, present or future makes Jim’s blood boil. He sneers at McCoy, who just laughs. Insane old bastard. He’ll be the first to go once Jim has his foot in the door.

James gets fitted for a suit, grinning wolfishly at the store-clerk who has to kneel before him and fumble with her measuring tape between his thighs. She looks terrified, Jim would like to think it’s because of him but he’s read about David McCoy’s ferocity, the man gives a new meaning to the word doctor. Jim, despite himself, _is_ impressed.

“My son has a fainter heart.” David admits. “He reminds me of my grandfather, a healer for the sake of healin’. Can’t see the beauty in annihilation.”

“I don’t believe in no-win scenarios, Mister McCoy.” Jim grins.

“I like you, James.” He states, nodding to himself before stepping through the front door.

The house is _magnificent_. Just the sort of place Jim dreams of ruling over, for now, anyway, before he lays claim to the whole Empire.

“Leo.” David calls, popping his head into one of the first rooms they come to. “You have a caller.”

Jim can’t hear Bones’ response, but can imagine the scowl that twists his features. Jim smirks.

“Oh, God.” Bones huffs when he finally makes his way out to them. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that’s a size too small for him and jeans that hug his ass more than Jim’s dick is ready to handle.

“Nice to see you too.” Jim greets, smirk turning lazy, lustful.

“Be nice now.” David says gently. “I’ll be in the library.”

Bones huffs again, glaring as his father turns to walk back down the hall. His glare turns back to Jim and he shakes his head, unamused – he’s really quite irascible. Jim hopes he’s this hot-tempered when he’s got a dick inside him otherwise their sex-life might end up being a raring disappointment. And Jim hates to be disappointed.

“All grown up, huh?” Is the first thing Bones says, well, _scoffs_.

“You bet.” Jim returns, cocking his head slightly. “You look good, Bones. Better than I remember.” And it’s true, he’s sun kissed and his lips are plush and he’s reminds Jim of the damsels his mother told him about from old-earth stories known as fairy-tales. His favourite was the story of the little girl in the red-velvet cloak, innocent and kind, taking bread to her grandmother, tempted by the wolf, seduced into handing herself over to him. She enjoys it, in the end – the devilment of the wolf.

Jim’s always seen himself as the wolf.

Will Bones wear red velvet for him? Will he instead wear the blood of their victims?

 _Blue_ , Jim think idly. Blue would be a more fitting colour.

“What are you doing here, kid?” Bones huffs. “And stop calling me Bones.”

“I’m here to win fair maidens heart.” Jim grins, and then he shakes his head. “No can do, Bonesy. I name things that I intend to keep.”

“I’m not a pet, Kirk. You can’t just stroke me and expect me to purr for you.” Bones scoffs.

“No?” He counters, raising his eyebrow, crooked smile settling over his mouth. “Well, we’ll wait and see, won’t we?”

“Why don’t you just go home and play with your train-set, hey?” Bones suggests, he starts to stride away from Jim. It’s rude and uncivil and it makes Jim _furious_. His hand shoots out, his grip vice-like as it curls tight around Bones’ wrist. Pads of his fingers pressed hard enough to bruise. Bones makes a noise of surprise and then sounds his discomfort. “Get your hand off me.” He orders.

“No.” Jim says, pulling Bones back to him. Jim’s taller than he was two years ago, nearly heading on for six foot – not as tall as Bones, not yet but he’s spent a lot of time sculpting himself and he’s strong. He holds Bones to him, eyes glinting maliciously. “If I had less respect for your father I’d fuck you right here in the hallway.” Jim warns; snarl distorting his face into something forbidding and ugly.

“You’re an arrogant little brat.” Bones huffs, trying to pull his wrist of out Jim’s grasp. He makes an annoyed little growl, like a dog with a chew-toy. “And you won’t fuck me because I know how to castrate you and make it hurt for _months_.”

“Puppy’s got bark.” Jim snorts. “But you’re fucking harmless, Bones, at the crux. It doesn’t matter what you can do, it’s about what you _will_ do. And you won’t hurt me.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Bones counters, gritting his teeth.

“Come on, Bones, use your head. We could be great together.” Jim smirks.

“What exactly is it you think you can offer? You’re a pubescent fuck-up with absolutely nothing to your name.” Bones digs.

“No. But I do have my name.” Jim smirks. “And it means something.”

“It means you’re the son of an evil bastard who blew up a Romulan ship and ended eight-hundred innocent lives.” Bones counters. “Then he got himself killed anyway, oh gee, what a hero.”

“You looked me up?” Jim grins.

“You killed my fiancée; of course I looked you up.” Bones counters.

“She was _good_.” Jim admits. “Deviant.”

“She was a fucking slut.” Bones huffs. “You weren’t exactly special to get into her panties.”

“She wasn’t even wearing any.” Jim jibes and Bones swings for him, it gives Jim just the momentum he needs to push Bones back against the wall, knee pushing between his thighs to keep him still. “I want you, Bones. You’re all I’ve wanted for the past two years.”

“You’re a psycho.” Bones states.

“According to my last psych evaluation, yeah.” Jim nods. “Doesn’t have any bearing on how much I wanna fuck you right now, though. That’s all you, Bones. Shouldn’t go ‘round looking so edible.”

“You’re not going to touch me.” Bones says, pulling his wrist away from Jim as the teens grip loosens. “Fuck you.” He whispers, low and gravelly.

“We’re in agreement then?” Jim smirks.

“You are such a _child_.” Bones huffs, aggravated beyond belief. Jim hates that. Hates being underestimated because of his age, he pushes his hands against either one of Bones’ collarbones pushing his back into the wall. He leans in so that their faces are only centimetres apart – eyes burning blue, like the hottest part of the flame, dark blue and scolding.

He just waits, breathing deeply, feeling the rise and fall of Bones’ chest against his own. Bones’ gaze flicks down to Jim’s mouth and the teen _knows_ he has him.

He steps back, brushes invisible lint off his new dinner jacket and walks away. Doesn’t turn around, doesn’t make a lewd comment.

Bones will come to him.

#

Jim makes a point of wearing very little around the house. David seems to approve, sparing him content little glances as he walks around the house in just a low-rise pair of sweatpants – he’d would have him over his desk in five minutes flat if the story of how Jim’d bitten off his principle’s tongue, and fed it to the man’s piranha after he tried to force some ‘discipline’ into Jim when he was twelve, wasn’t near-legendary. The man was a retired Admiral from the ‘fleet, Komack was his name – and, in hindsight, he should have stayed there because at least in space he would have been safe from Jim Kirk’s teeth.

He catches Bones watching him; it never fails to brighten his mood even though it just makes Bones even touchier come dinner time.

“If you just _asked_ me, I’d be happy to fuck you.” Jim says when they pass each other on the third evening of Jim’s stay in the McCoy mansion. “Or I could just take it, you still screaming your protestations?”

“What is it you want, Kirk?” Bones huffs.

“ _You_.”

“Why?” Bones scoffs.

“Because you’ll be _exquisite_.” Jim breathes. “To corrupt and violate. I want to make you twisted; I want to make you _want_ it.” Bones just looks at him, loathing mostly, but with an edge of something else. Something _excited_. Jim takes Bones by the forearms and gently leads him back down the corridor, to Bones’ bedroom. Bones lets himself be led, eyes Jim with an intensity that would make a lesser man blush. “I have to _take_ it, don’t I? Because you won’t ask for it, will you, Bones?”

“You’re unbelievable.” Bones huffs, halting just as they get passed the doorframe.

“Don’t be stubborn.” Jim says, leaning forward to kiss Bones’ cheek. This time Bones doesn’t pull away when Jim’s tongue flicks out onto his skin. He nips at Bones’ jaw and presses the thumb of one hand into Bones’ hips, shoving him back against the door as he uses the other hand to swing it shut.

Bones makes a slightly winded sound that turns into a moan when Jim finally covers Bones’ mouth with his own. He catches the doctor’s tongue in between his teeth and smirks; Bones rolls his eyes and pulls away.

“Don’t be such an infant.” He huffs. “Smug doesn’t look good on you.”

“Everything looks good on me.” Jim says pulling him back. “Although _you_ , you’d look _fantastic_ on me.”

“Where do you even get this kinda confidence, you’re not even through puberty yet?” Bones scoffs and ire wells up inside Jim who turns to Bones and drags his mouth closer by a firm hand around his nape. The kiss isn’t teasing or impish this time, this is Jim trying to scare Bones, overwhelm him. He kisses furiously, and digs his nails into the side of Bones’ neck, hoping to _God_ he leaves deep crescent shape pinches.

Bones makes a discontent sound but Jim ignores it, trying to think of another way to hurt the body he’s attempting to enclose. Bones seems to startle when Jim grabs his biceps pressing the skin hard enough to blacken. He tries to wriggle out of Jim’s grasp but he can’t and Jim just continues to plunder his mouth. He revels in how hopeless Bones must feel under him and chuckles when Bones futilely tries to push Jim away – his chest remains firm and Bones’ breathing quickens at the realisation. 

“Jim, stop it.” Bones pleads, pulling his mouth away.

“Get on the bed.” Jim instructs, not letting go of Bones.

“No.” Bones shakes his head.

“Bones.” Jim warns. But Bones doesn’t heed his warning and turns to open the door, fingers clasped around the platinum gilded door handle and ready to turn. Jim really didn’t want to have to do this – he yanks Bones back to him and unsheathes the knife he keeps holstered around his rib-cage, slightly tearing at the fabric of his t-shirt with the force of his movements. Bones lift his chin automatically, as if he knew Jim would go straight for the neck.

“You are going to strip. You are going to get on the bed. And then you are going to sit on my dick.” Jim explains. “Are we clear?”

Jim can tell just how ludicrous Bones thinks it is to obey a sixteen year old ruffian, no manners, no courtesy, his games aren’t even that clever because he’s still got so much growing up to do. But Bones is scared too, because Jim has nothing to lose and the good doctor is just one of a thousand bodies Jim Kirk’s cock could make a home in. Bones starts to unbutton his shirt and frowns when Jim offers him a lazy, encouraging smile. Bones shrugs the fabric off his shoulders and then lets it fall to the floor. Jim catalogues the freckles around his belly button and over the jut of his hips.

He’s divine.

Jim settles his hands over Bones’ hips, walking him backwards onto the bed. Bones scrambles back further trying to put some distance between the two of them. He shoves down his sweat-pants and boxer-briefs in one fluid motion, a look of distain and maybe even self-loathing curling at his features.

“Who knew you’d look so good.” Jim smirks. Pulling the bottoms away and dropping them onto the floor. He makes a show of kneeling on the mattress, back straight, settling himself, fully clothed between Bones’ spread thighs, hands running under them to pull Bones’ ass slightly closer. Jim slowly undoes the buttons on his jeans, lifts up slightly to tug them down under his straining cock. Bones eyes him curiously.

“Take them off all the way.” Bones huffs.

“Stay quiet.” Jim counters, running a hand over himself, loosely fisting – he wouldn’t want to ruin the fun after all.

“You can’t fuck me while you’re still practically wearin’ your jeans.” Bones scoffs.

“I can fuck you however I like.” Jim states; presenting two fingers to Bones’ mouth and rubbing against the bottom lip before Bones acquiesces and starts to suck them.

“There’s lube in the draw.” Bones says when Jim finally pulls his hand back and moves to circle Bones’ hole.

“I think you’re missing the point of this exercise.” Jim states; smearing his precum down his length while hooking a finger of the other hand into Bones. The doctor grunts and shifts his hips up, almost obediently, as if to offer Jim better leverage (and, of course to alleviate the discomfort). “This is your penance, Bones, for your backchat.”

“Punishment won’t keep me in line, kid, it’ll just make me buck harder.” Bones growls.

“ _Fantastic._ ” Jim leers.

“You’re an idiot.” Bones huff and then winces when Jim crooks in a second finger. “If this is meant to put me in my place, you’re goin’ about it the wrong way.”

“It’s meant to _hurt_.” Jim says and then pulls his fingers back harshly – the friction burning Bones from the inside out. “I want you to feel it. I want you fucking _torn_ open.”

“You’re a fuckin’ _psychopath_.” Bones snaps trying to shift away but Jim uses his free hand, the one that doesn’t have its fingers buried inside Bones, to hold him still.

“Because you fucking _infuriate_ me.” Jim says.

“Feelings mutual.” Bones mutters, looking all pouty and put out.

“Fine.” Jim huffs, pulling back. “Get your damn lube and prep yourself.”

Bones offers him an impish little smile that’s half grateful and half triumphant. Jim watches him lean over to the bedside table and pull out a bottle, lifting one leg for a slightly better position. Jim starts to take his jeans off all the way, trying not to think about the scars that litter his thighs. But Bones sees them, red, raised and never really healed properly.

He looks at Jim, right in the eyes and then looks away.

Jim fists himself with one hand and slides the other one up Bones thigh, keeping it up while the doctor slides a slippery finger into himself. Jim watches as the inked outlines of bone disappear and re-emerge from inside him. He looks completely wanton. Torn open in a different way. Jim thinks he might be learning something. He reaches for the lube himself, coats his fingers and pulls Bones’ hand away. Replaces Bones’ finger with one of his own and tries a different tactic, he can still make Bones’ scream this way. And maybe even crave more.

He brushes the finger around Bones’ walls, tries to open him up and find that thing that’ll make him arch and curse and promise Jim eternal loyalty. He waits for Bones to ask him for a second finger, _Jim, more, please,_ and he feels so powerful in that moment. Like he alone holds the answer to all of Bones’ questions, like soon Bones is going to give him all the keys to every padlock of his psyche.

“You should fuck me now.” Bones pants, after about seven excruciating minutes of fingering him, Jim’s cock is aching and he has to squeeze the base as he guides himself into Bones for fear he’ll come immediately. They both let out a groan and Bones, for once, isn’t frowning.

Bones hooks his calves around Jim’s waist, pulling him closer. Jim thinks it looks a lot like tender love-making, the kind that peace weaving women want when they’re broody. But the side of Bones’ knees are pressed into Jim’s ribcage and that little spark of spite is enough to settle Jim’s stomach.

To hear Bones moan and see him writhe like a two-bit slut is really just the icing on the cake. And the feel of him spasm around Jim is the moment he decides he’s finally made it from boy to man. The unrhythmic clenching is too much for Jim and he's comes after another thrust.

He heeps fingers loosely wrapped around Bones’ dick, wiping Bones' own come onto the doctor’s abdomen before smirking and licking his tongue into Bones’ mouth.

“You’re obscene.” Bones huffs, pulling away and presenting his neck for Jim’s attention instead - Jim wants to leave as many bruises as he can and when he looks down the length of Bones’ body he finds himself quite happy with the results.

“What’s with the skeletal tattoos?” Jim asks.

“You aren’t the only rebellious teen to ever walk the planet.” Bones shrugs. “What’s with the scars?”

Jim’s still wearing his t-shirt but it’s ridden up around his waist and the marks across his stomach are now evident too.

“I was on Tarsus when Kodos was in rule, a few friends and I tried an assassination attempt when the crops first failed. We didn’t succeed.” Jim shrugs. “I was thirteen.” He adds, as if that’s an adequate reason to fail attempting murder.

“Why haven’t you gotten them healed?” Bones asks, hand brushing lightly over Jim’s stomach.

“They used a chemical on the blades that meant the skin couldn’t knit all the way back together.” Jim explains. “They won’t even fade to white.”

“Why didn’t you want me to see them?” Bones asks but Jim just looks away. “ _Why_?” He repeats.

“It doesn’t make me weak.” Jim huffs with a quiet, guarded voice. “I was a half-starved kid, I was stupid but not _weak_.”

“Is that what all this is, Jim?” Bones wonders, threading his fingers with Jims. “You not being weak? You don’t have to prove yourself to me, kid.”

“I want you to feel safe, protected.” Jim states.

“You want me to feel possessed.” Bones corrects with a smirk. “Owned.”

“That too.” Jim says. “I’ve wanted you for two years, Bones. I want you to feel it.”

“I can tell you where I do feel it.” Bones huffs, shifting onto his side.

“We have to work out what happens next.” Jim says, laying his head on Bones’ side. “Now that I have everything I want, I’ll need to start working out some new goals.”

#

They start with David McCoy.

Because, well the first reason anyway, McCoy _is_ as much of a sick bastard as Jim assumed he was. Bones tells him everything reluctantly over dinner in his room one evening. Told him about how six year old Leo McCoy was told _to be very quiet_ and how much of a _good boy_ compliance made him. Jim seethes at the thought of anyone touching Bones, even his father who does have divine right to his child’s body in the eyes of the law. It stopped when Bones turned seventeen, David no longer saw the appeal and only needed his sons expertise in medicine and not his, begrudgingly-developed, talents in the bedroom.

Apparently, or so Bones postulates, it’s a result of losing his wife too young and having to play father to her look-alike, especially when you’ve always been harbouring slightly risqué tendencies – Eleanora McCoy _was_ only sixteen when David got her pregnant. Jim doesn’t want to know any more details of Bones’ disturbed childhood he just tells Bones that they’re going to kill David, inherit his money and leave.

“It’ll have to look like an accident then.” Bones says. “Or we won’t get a single credit.”

“Subtlety isn’t my strong suit.” Jim smirks.

“No, but medicine is mine.” Bones says.

“Poison?” Jim scoffs.

“No.” Bones shakes his head. “I’m going to synthesis an incurable disease and inject him with it.”

“Slow and painful?” Jim wonders.

“About six months, excruciatin’.” Bones says.

“What’s it called?”

“Xenopolycythemia.”

“What’s it do?” Jim asks, frowning.

“It’s a disease of the blood.” Is all Bones says. “I’ll keep you updated.”

Bones spends the next four or five days down in his labs, Jim stays away, decides to head out, make some connections. He’s sixteen but he acts like he’s twenty six and that makes people question themselves, they know he’s not old enough to command the attention that he does but they’re too frightened to really question him. He makes a few gentle passing comments about David’s health, tries to sow the seeds early on. He brings Bones a bouquet of lavender Andorian roses, fucks him over the desk in his labs, pinning his wrists to the cold glass table-top.

“Why purple?” Bones asks.

“Lavender.” Jim corrects.

“Okay then.” Bones huffs. “Why _lavender_?”

“It’s to show enchantment.” Jim smirks. “Fucking _awe_ , Bones.”

“Well, I’m only a harmless country doctor.” He grins, trying to shift out from under Jim.

“Payback tastes sweet, huh?” Jim murmurs, nipping at Bones’ shoulder.

“You bring out the worst in me.” Bones scoffs.

“The _best_ , Bones, I think you mean the best.”

It’s two days later when Bones injects his father with the clear serum; Jim is holding a knife to his neck while the man visibly seethes. He calls Bones a whore and a slut, maybe trying to bait Jim’s knife to ‘slip’ so their plan will be scuppered. Bones just holds Jim’s gaze, give him the promise of everything to come in the depths of his hazel eyes and tell his father to fuck himself.

It takes David nearly four months to beg for death.

Bones breaks a little, the boy inside him clawing out for his Daddy. Jim tries to reason with him. If Bones ends his father’s life they will get nothing.

“I can’t watch him die like that. Like an animal.” Bones urges.

“I swear to God, Bones.” Jim growls.

“I can’t be like you, Jim.” Bones says, jaw tensing as Jim’s fingers bite into the soft flesh of his cheeks. “He’s my father.”

“He _ruined_ your childhood. We have _plans,_ Bones.” Jim states.

“ _You_ have plans. I’m just your meal ticket.” Bones huffs. He obviously doesn’t expect Jim to backhand him, Jim’s not even sure _he_ expected it. But it happens, almost on compulsion. And Bones looks furious.

“How fucking _dare_ you.” Jim snarls, grabbing Bones by the chin again, pulling their faces inexorably close. “I came to fucking _Georgia_ for you. Don’t make this out to be something it isn’t, because I will _tear you apart_.”

“I can’t believe you _smacked_ me.” Bones says, jerking his head away.

“Course you can, I’m a fucking _psycho_ , remember?” He spits. “Don’t lose your pretty head, Bones.”

“I could end it. For him, for us. I might still inherit; it could look like a natural death.” Bones says.

“Why do you care?” Jim questions. “After everything?”

“He was the only thing I had growin’ up, even if it was twisted. Most things in my life are.” He scoffs.

Jim’s annoyed pants soften, his hands sliding down Bones’ arm, fingers curling around Bones’ thumb. It’s childish, Jim knows, but sometimes he knows there is good in allowing Bones to see a vulnerable side to him. Even though it’s mostly manufactured.

“Give it a few weeks.” Jim says. “You can hold on a bit longer.”

Even though he hasn’t been able to utter a word since the second month David McCoy is clinging onto his pathetic existence, it’s almost a mockery. Like if he’s going to go down he’s going to make sure he torments his son until he does.

At the start of the fifth month David McCoy dies in the middle of the night. Bones isn’t in Jim’s bed when he wakes up; he’s sitting in the kitchen in just his pyjama bottoms with a hypo vial still clasped in his hands.

“You’re an idiot.” Jim says, voice dangerous. “And you should have told me.”

“I’m not sorry.” Bones counters.

“You never are.” Jim mutters. “Are we gonna have to cut and run or will this stay undetected?”

“It’s just a morphine overdose, I’ll say he was having a particularly painful night, it’s not like he’d never had that sort of dosage before.” Bones shrugs, looking dejected. “And then I need to get out of here, Jim, this house, this town, Georgia.”

“San Francisco.” Jim nods.

“What’s in San Francisco?” Bones questions.

“Starfleet.”

#

Starfleet is even more brutal than the real world, maybe that’s why Jim is so brutal, because he has Starfleet in his blood. Brutality pumps through his veins.

It doesn’t take much effort for them to get an apartment in the Castro, or for Bones to get a job at the SFMC emergency room. He complains about the hours but he enjoys trauma medicine, likes to have to think on his feet, it keeps his mind from wandering. Jim deals with all the ‘fleet stuff – he takes the required aptitude tests, makes Bones attend his med-track interview.

Alexander Marcus, a man Jim has only ever heard of through research, is stood in their sitting room. It’s dark, Jim blinks to get better focus of the room.

“Admiral Marcus.” Jim greets.

“James Kirk.” He grins, turning to face the teen. “You look just like your father.”

“Handsome guy, was he?”

“David McCoy’s death was a bit of luck for you.” Marcus counters.

“Ended up with me here, didn’t it?” Jim shrugs. “I’d say that’s a bit of luck for you and your ‘fleet too.”

 “Are you joining to sabotage us, James, out of misguided revenge for your father?” Marcus asks.

“No.” Jim shakes his head. “I’m doing it because I want to rule. Because I’m better than he was.”

“And your boyfriend?” Marcus says, eyes twinkling some.

“Bones?” Jim wonders. “You don’t _touch_ him, _Admiral_.”

“I’m not in the habit of listening to seventeen year old smart-asses.” Marcus states.

“And I’m not in the habit of repeating myself. Bones is _mine_ , end of.” Jim says.

“He’s sharp.”

“As a whip.” And even though it’s Jim’s thought it comes out of Bones’ mouth. The two men turn to face the doorway. “Is there some way we can help you, Admiral… _Marcus_ , ain’t it?”

“Just wanted to give you your admission approvals in person.” Marcus explains with a nod. “It’ll be a shame to have to leave this apartment behind.”

“We’ll manage.” Jim says. “And we’ll see you on the first.”

“Until then.” Marcus says, sliding past Bones, gaze lingering for a mite too long.

#

Jim has to some damage to the admin department in order to get him and Bones into a joint room: damage that comes in the form of a shattered cheek bone for one unlucky Lieutenant and four missing fingers for another. It’s controlled really. Bones has asked him to try an behave himself – but Bones is the target of wandering eyes and eager hands and so when two men are found skinned and hung in the main lecture theatre at the end of the first week Jim feels his possessiveness has been justly served.

“You’re gonna get us thrown out of here.” Bones huffs.

“Get on all fours.” Jim counters.

“Fuck you, Jim.” He scoffs.

“You still don’t get it, even after everything.” Jim shakes his head. “Get on the fucking bed.”

“Or what?” Bones demands. “You’ll fuck me anyway? You see how _flawed_ that approach is?”

Jim leans forward, backing Bones into the kitchenette, his back hitting the counter so he has to stop moving away. Jim crowds him, pressing the palms of his hands over his chest. There is a knife on the counter; it’s still wet and slightly pink from the strawberries Bones had been cutting. Jim picks it up, holds it to the bare skin of Bones’ chest, holds the point of the knife under the doctor’s ribs.

Bones stiffens, frowning.

“So there is some sense in that stupidly pretty head of yours?” Jim questions, but it’s rhetorical and even if it wasn’t Bones wouldn’t answer him, not with that dark look that’s taken over Jim’s usually bright eyes. “You’re right.” He continues. “We shouldn’t fuck tonight.”

Bones look of confusion is almost as strong as his terror.

“Why don’t you sit on one of the chairs?” Jim gestures to the two-seater table they have along one wall of their kitchenette, lifting the knife away from Bones’ body. Bones obeys, pulling it away from the wall slightly and turning it to face Jim. “Good boy.” He says, even though he knows how much Bones loathes that title. Bones sneers but doesn’t say anything.

Jim wanders out of the alcove that makes up their kitchen space and goes in search of his rope, he’d prefer the rougher stuff but he’s only got the synthetic black rope handy. It’ll have to do.

Bones eyes widen when he re-enters the room.

“Jim.”

“Stay silent.” Jim interrupts. “Unless you have to scream.”

“Please.”

“You’re making it worse, Bones.” Jim warns in that horrifically menacing sing-song tone.

Bones keeps his arms tense at his sides as Jim ties him to the chair. He tenderly brushes the doctor’s bangs out of his eyes and kisses his temple. Bones looks away – he hates the way Jim can merge love and hate, tenderness and violence – he’d rather just face the two sides of Jim as if they were completely separate, but they aren’t. It isn’t ‘two sides’ of Jim – it’s just one beautiful dichotomy. Bones still can’t handle that.

Bones winces when the knife first drags over his skin.

“I’m going to cut you to ribbons, Bones. Wait until you beg before I even consider stopping. I’m going to hypo you with an adrenal booster and wait until you’re high on that and the blood loss and then I’m going to jerk myself off and come over your bruised and bloody chest. Maybe I’ll let you lick me clean.” Jim explains.

“I could bleed out, Jim.” Bones warns.

“You could.” Jim agrees. “Let’s just hope you beg sooner rather than later.”

“You _asshole_.”

Jim slips the knife deeper and Bones hisses. “That isn’t begging, Bones.” Jim says, curving the blade, it’s a shallow enough cut but the blood wells up to the surface, and Jim watches mesmerised as it smudges when he runs a finger over it.

Jim is knelt in between Bones’ forced-apart thighs, drawing a ‘j’ into one of the segments of Bones’ abs – they’re on fire, clenching furiously and the blood is just pumping out of him, when he finally murmurs a deliciously jaded _please, Jim, please_. Turns out he didn't need the adrenaline boost to make Bones beg. Jim licks at the blood of his initial and surges up to kiss Bones, licking the doctor’s blood into his mouth.

Bones pulls away. “It hurts.” He whispers.

“I know.” Jim says softly, pressing his fingers into one of the longer cuts over his ribs. “’ve you had enough?” And Bones nods. “Have you learnt your lesson?” He nods again. “What’s that then?” Jim prompts.

“Get on all fours when I’m told to.” Bones snorts bitterly.

“Do _whatever_ when you’re told to.” Jim corrects. “ _Obedience_ , that’s the lesson.”

“Please let me use the regen.” Bones whispers, voice ragged.

“I haven’t come all over you yet.” Jim smirks, getting to his feet. Bones groans and lets his head fall back, he looks exhausted, but Jim just sees this debauched beauty and he has this primal urge to mark, to _claim_.  

He leaves Bones tied to the chair, come drying onto his clavicle and his cheek, his breathing is shallow but eventually he gives up staying tense and just slumps to the side a bit – Jim decides this is probably the time to get him fixed up. He gets a cloth, gently wipes over Bones’ body, wiping away the blood and semen and sweat, he pours Bones a glass of orange juice, he kisses his foreheads and hand him the dermal regenerator.

“I’ve got a meeting with Marcus.” Jim says. “I’ll be home late.”

Bones looks almost upset, that Jim would leave him after the devastation he’s just reaped over the doctor’s body. But he’s not damaged enough that his hands are anything other than precise and adept – the day Bones’ hands shake is the day Jim will hang around for the later stages of aftercare.

And so the first week of their Academy life is over.

And things can only get better.

#

Jim’s eighteenth birthday comes three quarters of the way through their first year at the Academy. There are lots of things he wants to do to celebrate this day – they all involve Bones, of course. Mostly in various positions in the centre of their bed but Bones has plans too, takes Jim to this postgraduate tactics lecture at HQ that he actually had to pay for and once Jim’s learnt an entirely new way to conquer the world, and is feeling quite able to adapt the discussed theories into his own approach Bones takes him back to their dorm gives him a bottle of Saurian Brandy and actually lies back on the bed when Jim tells him too.

He ties Bones hands to the bedframe and proceeds to get them both exceedingly drunk, sharing the bottle between them as he tongues at Bones’ throat.

“There’s something else I want.” Jim says, fumbling under the bed for the little kit he acquired the other day.

“There always is.” Bones mutters, he probably assumes it’s some death defying sexual feat. It’s not, it’s so much better.

Jim opens the kit out onto the bed, Bones’ back is braced enough against the headboard that he can see without straining his neck and Jim doesn’t miss the few initial looks of concern before the protestations start.

“No needles, Jim.” He says quickly, chest and throat flushed with fear but maybe something else too, he’s been with Jim long enough that pain and fear are part of his arousal – which makes it difficult for Jim to know when he’s deadly serious and when he’s just being bashful, not that it makes a difference to Jim. Bones’ tanned flesh turned rosy is quite lovely; Jim leans in to lick one of Bones’ nipples.

“You know what happens when you tell me no, Bones.” Jim counters. He unclips the pot of ink and sets it on the side table.

“Stick and poke tattoos _always_ go wrong, Jim, you’ll regret this.” Bones urges.

Bones’ head drops back onto the pillow, he tries to shift away but Jim just straddles him. “You don’t know how hot your bone tattoos are.” Jim whispers. “I can’t resist.”

“Jim, I’ve told you this a thousand damn times, I was young, I was bein’ _stupid_ -”

 “I even made up a transfer.” Jim says and holds up the thin sheet of transfer paper, giving Bones enough time to read _James_ before he wipes an antiseptic wipe over Bones’ sternum and sticks it down.

In theory this’ll work a charm. Jim is slightly uncertain about the execution but really he just wants to write his name all over Bones so everybody _knows_ – Bones is lucky he’s only doing it on his chest.

Bones watches Jim dip the needle into the ink, the tip of it turning black-blue and then he draws it up to Bones’ chest, leaning on him slightly so he’s comfortable. The first few pricks are decidedly uncomfortable for Bones but he masters through it. The script is actually quite tasteful. Jim wants Bones to like it, it’s not meant to be a form of punishment.

“That’s why you wanted me to drink tonight.” Bones says, Jim is just making his way through the second curve of the ‘m’, he nods, not drawing his eyes away from Bones’ slightly inflamed skin.

Once it’s finished Jim hold up a little mirror to Bones’ chest, he actually makes a vaguely impressed sound. “See.” Jim says. “You should have learnt by now, Bonesy, that I can do anything I set my mind to.”

“It’s like a cattle stamp.” Bones huffs. “I need to go and run the dermal over it.” He adds but Jim makes no move to undo his bindings. “ _So_ I’d appreciate it if you’d _untie_ me.”

“Relax, Bones.” Jim says with a wolfish grin. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

They spend the next two days in bed, Bones misses a whole clinic shift and when his head of department comms to find out where the _fuck_ he is Jim sets the man straight about Bones’ absence – it’ll remain unrecorded.

But favouritism _always_ draws attention in the Fleet and Bones ends up in hospital a week later, three cracked ribs, fractured jaw, and a broken wrist. It’s the last injury that Bones worries about the most and it’s the one that keeps him from asking Jim not to go after the asshole who did it. Threatening Bones’ ability to practice medicine is a gross transgression in Bones’ eyes, for Jim, though, someone touching what’s _his_ is where the true sin lies.

 He wants to do something inventive, wants to demonstrate Bones’ importance to the whole fucking Academy. And he wants to demonstrate his _savagery_.

He’s never played with acid before.

Bones spends another day in the infirmary, a day Jim uses to locate the guy, tie him to a chair in one of the seminar rooms and proceed to burn the flesh from his hands and face until the bone pokes through, until the container of ‘glacial’ acetic acid is empty and the cadet is screaming so bad that they have acquired an audience, eagerly watching from outside the classroom.

Jim feels it’s a job well done. And when he goes to pick Bones up from the hospital the doctor kisses his cheek and offers a grateful smile. “Heard about your heroics today.” He mutters. “Thanks.”

“Anything for you, Bones.” Jim says. “You know that.”

#

Jim becomes somewhat of a living legend by the end of their first year at the academy, he’s like the bogeyman, the devilish sprite who goes bump in the night and makes the taps run warm blood. Bones, by extension, also gets a fair bit of attention. There are those who genuinely want him because of his body and his brain, those who want him because Jim wants him (and so of course he must be a real talent), and, obviously, those who want him just to piss Jim off.

In the end the result is the same for all of them.

Turning up _dead_ , that is.

“You don’t want any competition, huh?” Bones jibes, one evening after Jim’s just got in from a late simulator exam.

“Is there any competition?” Jim smirks. “I mean, look at me.”

“You’re certainly a sight.” Bones agrees.

“I wanna fist you.” Jim says and Bones nearly chokes, Jim strides over and rubs a soothing circle into Bones’ lower back. “Don’t die on me.” He chuckles.

“No.” Bones says, shaking his head. He gets up from the chair and pushes Jim away. “No.” He repeats.

“It wasn’t a question, Bones.” Jim says.

“I’ve got a lab slot.” Bones says, picking his kit off the table and making his way to the door.

“You walk out on me, Bones, and it’ll be worse when you get back.” Jim warns.

“Maybe I _won’t_ come back.” Bones says, the door swishing shut behind him without the gratifying slam.

And Bones is true to his word. Jim doesn’t see him for nearly a week and a half – he rips the campus apart, every haunt he can think of. Two cadets think it’s funny to tease Jim about keeping his puppy on a tighter leash and he cuts their balls off, right there in the court yard. Whether Bones has just become an expert in avoidance or whether he’s been taken up by some moron with a death wish Jim doesn’t know. But the latter possibility makes him furious. If he finds Bones in any other condition than tight and untouched Jim will lose his fucking head.

And then the other bastard will too.

Maybe he’ll even put it on a spike in the forecourt.

Bones turns up the following Thursday, he’s got fading bruises over his cheeks but his knuckles are scraped and scabbed too and so Jim’s unease is negated slightly.

“You maybe wanna run your face under the regen?” Jim sneers. “You don’t wear anyone else’s marks Bones. Just mine.”

“You not gonna ask where I’ve been?” Bones questions.

“Did it involve you getting fucked?” Jim counters.

“No.”

“Then I don’t much care.” Jim states coldly. “Now go and clean yourself up. I’ve only got an hour before I have to be in a Military Evasion lecture and there is still the touchy issue of fisting to overcome.”

“You’re a damn bastard, Jim.” Bones breathes, sounding rough and wretched and not in the way that makes Jim tingle.

“Endearing.” Jim mutters. “But put your paws away, puppy.” He mocks.

Bones doesn’t make it easy, he actually heads into the bathroom, locks the door and Jim has to fucking phaser (a totally contraband weapon for cadets) through the damn thing before he drags Bones out into the centre of the room and wrestles him to the ground, tearing and cutting through his clothes until the doctor is naked. Bones kicks and bites and bucks and roars at Jim until Jim’s hands are clasped around his throat to keep him quite.

The purpling of his cheeks is absolutely beautiful.

“Are you quite finished?” Jim says, grip loosening only just so that he doesn’t asphyxiate Bones entirely.  Bones just pants, tries one more futile wriggle of his shoulders and then slumps back. “Good.”

Bones looks up at Jim with eyes that tell him he’s not accepting of what’s to come, that this isn’t okay. They’re icy and defiant and they make something warm burst inside Jim, he loves taking what Bones isn’t a hundred percent willing to give. Bones’ eyes say no when they should be pleading with Jim to be merciful. He should be batting his lashes and pushing out his lower lip. Instead he’s frowning and has his lips pursed tight – it doesn’t really matter, Jim’s still going to make him scream.

“Why don’t you get your forehead acquainted with the floor, Bones, I’ll get the lube.” Jim smirks. And Bones isn’t left with any room to argue.

He shuffles closer to the bed, bending his torso forward so his shoulders are almost touching the ground while his arse is nicely presented to the cool air of their dorm room. That sight, the sight of Bones with his back arched and his thighs spread, hole displayed perfectly, makes him moan. It’s a guttural noise and it makes Bones’ shoulder’s tense.

 _Enough watching_ , Jim thinks as he gracefully sinks to his knees; positioning himself close behind Bones. “You’re stunning, Bones.” Jim purrs, dipping forward to bite painfully at Bones’ shoulder. He trails his hands down Bones’ outline, guiding over his ribcage and hips, settling on his tanned arse. Bones flinches when Jim’s thumb slides along the crease of his arse and Jim slaps him. “Stay still.” He warns and Bones gives an answering huff.

Jim sits back on his knees, legs tucked under him, and pulls Bones’ cheeks apart further, pressing his thumbs to the hole in turn. He blows over Bones’ hole and when the doctor’s hips jerk again he digs his fingers into the soft swell of his arse-cheeks, nails making little half-moon indents. “Don’t move a muscle.” Jim says, drawing his hands away so he can open the cap on the bottle of lube and pour a healthy amount onto the pads of his three middle fingers. He spreads Bones’ cheeks with the thumb and forefinger of his dry hand, blowing again on Bones’ hole until it’s twitching and clenching but his hips remain still. Jim wants Bones to be hyper aware of every sensation, every little touch that Jim bestows onto him.

He circles a single slippery finger around Bones’ hole, just dipping the pad of the finger past the tight right of muscle and working around in circles to try and loosen it. The lube Jim has acquired for this has a slight muscle relaxant in it, not enough that Bones won’t be aching from the weight of Jim’s fist inside him, or that he won’t be able to fill the tight fullness. It’s just to make this initial part easier, for Jim mostly – he’s never been a very patient man.

By the time Jim has worked three fingers into Bones, the doctor’s thighs are trembling from the strain and probably from the anticipation too but Jim just thrusts his fingers in and then draws them back. Over and over and over. It’s a brutal pace but watching the way Bones’ body sucks in his fingers is only serving to urge him on.

And then Bones starts moaning in this small broken way, canting his hips back to meet Jim’s envasion of his body.

“No, Jim, _please_.” Bones murmurs raggedly when Jim finally slides his pinking in alongside the rest of his fingers.

“Don’t tell me no, Bones.” Jim smirks, curling his fingers perfectly so they can massage Bones’ prostate. “I want you to open up for me.” Jim says, biting Bones’ back until he imprints his dental record into Bones’ skin. Bones shakes his head.

“I can’t.” He gasps.

Jim squirts a little more lube into his half-engorged hand and works his fingers a little deeper. “You _can_.” He counters.

When Jim looks down to watch his thumb squeeze in, tucked close to his palm, he feels more triumphant than ever before. So triumphant that he takes a few moments to observe the sight of Bones’ hole stretched around his wrist. He adds a touch more lube and then starts to twist his wrist slightly, rocking the pad of his palm downwards. Bones whimpers and Jim watches the flex of the muscles in his back and shoulders. Jim uses his free hand to unzip his cadet reds, and pull out his cock.

He jerks himself in time with the smaller shifts of his wrist, every intention of staining Bones’ back with his come and leaving him on a heap on the floor to think about what a monumentally ridiculous idea it is to run out on and defy Jim Kirk.

It doesn’t take long for his orgasm to hit him, it’s enough for Jim to just stares intently at the tight ring stretched taut around his hand - it propels him right off the precipice.

“Jim, please.” Bones hisses. “It’s too much, too full.”

“You sound delicious like this.” Jim murmurs, spurting with a moan and smearing the come across Bones’ back and down over his ribs.

He rests his head on Bones’ shoulder, leaving his fist where it is for the moment. “So, give me an account of your little vacation, you forgot to send a postcard.” 

“I can’t…” Bones whimpers.

“Bones.” Jim reasons.

“I was, was in the labs mostly.” Bones murmurs. “Pulled a double shift, spent a few nights at a colleague’s.”

“Who?”

“She’s a nurse.” Bones pants. “I slept on her couch.”

“Where’d you get the bruises?” Jim demands, pressing his fist forward; Bones can only respond with an irritated grunt.

“The first night. I was walkin; around campus, some third year tried to jump me. Happened again today as I was walkin’ over here, same guy, hence the knuckles.” Bones explains with effort. “ _Please_ take your fist out of my ass.” He pleads, voice no more than a weary rasp.

Jim makes a show of it but complies. “Only because you asked so nicely.” He says sacrastically. “And because I’m gonna be late.” He chuckles, slapping Bones’ abused ass again just to watch the doctor wince.

 _Job well done_ , Jim thinks, looking down at the body curled up on the carpet, he drapes a blanket over Bones, who cracks an eye open to glare at Jim before the blonde shrugs into some clothes, picks up his command textbook and heads out of their dorms

#

The guy who has developed a thing for Bones is actually a future security drone – he’s a big hulking bastard but Jim could probably have his eyeballs hanging from the sockets in ten seconds if that’s what he really wants. It isn’t. Not yet anyway.

He needs a few things first. An agoniser, third year clearance – he’s been able to hack the systems as and when he needs them thus far but Marcus is starting to give him warning glances whenever Jim strolls into his offensive weaponry tutorials, like maybe he’s stepping just a bit too far over the line. While Jim’s threatening Garcia with various methods of torture in order to acquire everything he wants Bones is spending more and more time in the company of his nurse friend.

At first Jim suspects it might be sexual.

He’s wrong. When he walks into their dorm a few weeks before the closing of term they’re just sitting, curled up on the sofa, _laughing_. The blonde, almost platinum so, is holding a glass of red wine to her chest while Bones sips Bourbon from a low-ball glass.

“Having fun, are we?” Jim says and they both jump, rightly so, at the sound of his voice.

“You’re home late.” Bones says, trying to look and sound deferential even though he’s scowling slightly. She must be important. Jim _really_ hates competition.

“My flight sims ran over.” Jim shrugs. “And you are?” He turns his gaze to the nurse.

“Chapel.” She says. “Christine.”

“And who do you belong to?” He asks, as if everyone has the same twisted set up as he and Bones.

“I don’t.” She says, lifting her chin.

“A pretty thing like you with no protection.” Jim murmurs, drawing closer. “Seems _reckless_.”

“I can handle myself.” She counters.

“Oh?”

“It’s not a challenge, Jim.” Bones says. “Christine, why don’t you head home? Comm me when you get in.” He suggests, lifting the wine out of her hand without drawing his gaze from Jim.

“’s very rude, Bonesy.” Jim chides. “No way to treat a lady. I thought you were the Southern gentleman.”

“You’re home now.” Bones says, and it carries more weight than Jim could imagine. But it’s just a tactic, to keep his focus from Chapel. Bones is getting clever in his old age. Jim can play his games though, because _hell_ , he wrote the rule book.

“And?” Jim shrugs. “Is there something you’d like, Bones?”

Bones glares at him, flicking his gaze to Chapel as she slips back into her jacket. His jaw tenses.

“Maybe Christine would like to stay for a little bit of fun.” Jim shrugs, leering at her. Nothing on Bones, not really, she has this typical beauty – a dime a dozen. No one has Bones’ fire.

“We could play.” Bones says, and Chapel looks at him confusedly. “Just me and you, Jim. Don’t ‘cha wanna play?”

“Ask for it, Bones.” Jim insists. “Be specific.”

“You could-” And Bones’ eyes jerk away from Chapel, blood rushing to his cheeks. “You could bring out the blades.” He offers.

“You want me to cut you.”

No is the answer.

“Yes.” Is what he says. Chapel makes a strangled noise but doesn’t intervene. “I’ll speak to you later, Christine.” Bones says, breath coming faster to match his racing heart.

“You’ll be okay?” She asks warily, deliberately not looking at Jim. Bones just nods. “Okay, Leonard.” She says. “I’ll comm.” And she’s makes her way out of the room, Jim watching her scurry away like a hawk watching a mouse titter around a field.

“She’s important?” Jim asks. “Is she?”

“She’s just my colleague.” Bones says. “I like her, she gutsy, but I know how you get.”

“And how’s that?”

“Jealous.”

“Lie on the bed.” Jim says, heading over to his _favourite_ draw.

 

 

#

Chapel, it turns out, has other uses. She’s not just leverage to keep Bones in line but she’s also very good friends with the Admirals daughter. Carol Marcus, she’s studying for her doctorate in advanced weaponry - and, it would seem, she’s an evil bitch.

And apparently she’s not a big fan of Jim’s. Even has Garcia murdered after he acquires Jim’s agoniser. But, Jim figures, the more time Chapel spends with Bones, the more likely it is that there paths will cross. Or so he hopes. Because he’s been yearning for a good scrap for a while and he’d like to dig the knife into Marcus after the way he continually looks at Bones.

He’d be dead already if he wasn’t, you know, the head of Starfleet an’ all.

Carol’s the definition of the Electra complex, completely besotted with her father and continues, even in her early-twenties to view all men in relation to him. Jim’s Marcus’ biggest threat, because Jim doesn’t give a shit about politics or rank and will slice the world open one day and watch blood drip from the Emperor’s throat.

Although he never expects to catch Bones fraternising with the enemy.

“It sounds damn near genius. An’ if they’re not startin’ it for another two years then maybe I’ll request my postin’ there.” Bones says and Chapel nods enthusiastically.

“I always thought I’d want a starship posting but there’s so much politics, I don’t know, maybe I’ll find a starbase, the midway.” She says.

“You’d never get me in space.” Bones says. “Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.”

“You think you might be in the wrong place then, Leonard?” Carol smiles, and it’s easy and gentle and she doesn’t seem threatening. But then again, they never do.

“Got no choice.” Bones shrugs. Jim loves to hear him say that. Although Bones is clearly very misinformed if he thinks he won’t be heading out to space with Jim, who is Jim supposed to argue, own and fuck and fight if Bones is stuck in some Terran hospital.

“’s nice to hear you say so.” Jim says, smirking. The three sets of eyes turn to him. Bones just looks like a rabbit caught in headlights but then he straightens his back and huffs.

“Jim.” He says. “Carol Marcus, a friend of Christine’s.”

“Alexander’s daughter.” Jim acknowledges with a smirk, it’s patronising and demeaning and Jim loves the subtle indignation that settles over her features.

“He’d cut out your tongue if he heard you address him so informally.” She says, tone never deviating from that lemon yellow softness.

“Well lucky it’s just you here then, hey?” Jim counters. “Bones, I want a word.” He says, dismissing the presence of the two women.

Things haven’t been the same since Bones walked out on him that night a few weeks ago. Bones had this, _hopeless,_ inevitable look in his eyes – like he doesn’t much care, like the fight has gone out of him. So Jim realises he has to give a bit, remind Bones why Jim Kirk is the best lover to have by your side.

Bones falls into step behind Jim as they walk away, back down the corridor in the direction of the courtyard. Jim slows then and Bones has to halt right behind him. Jim turns and looks at him with a gentle smile, letting his two hands come up to caress Bones’ hips. “You’re doing well.” Jim says, surging forward to place a chaste kiss to Bones’ throat. “Making friends.”

“It’s not a ploy, Jim.” Bones huffs. “I enjoy their company.”

“More than you enjoy mine?” Jim questions with a frown and Bones just shrugs.

“They don’t want anything from me, well anything that isn’t completely obvious.” Bones scoffs. “It’s nice. Mostly you just irritate me.”

“That hurts, Bones.” Jim says, turning his face to kiss the side of Bones’ mouth. A few on-looking cadets stop in the corridor to watch the show. Jim’s palms dig forward and press Bones back into the wall.

“Welcome to my world.” Bones says.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Jim murmurs, darting his tongue over Bones’ cheekbone. “Fucking exquisite.” He breathes. “But you look tired.”

“I am tired.” Bones says. “Always.”

“Bone weary?” Jim suggests with a slight simper.

“You think you’re hilarious.” Bones huffs.

“I am.” Jim blinks slowly, seductively. “I’ve cancelled your clinic shifts; we’ve got the weekend to ourselves.”

“Oh, joy.” Bones huffs.

Jim demands to know where Bones’ fight has fled to, not aloud, but still. He wants to know what the dry retorts are hiding – since when did Bones act so deflated.

“You’re keeping something from me.” Jim says. They used to have fire between them, now Bones is just ash in Jim’s mouth.

Bones just blinks at Jim and shrugs. The nonchalance sends Jim over the edge and he puts his fist through the wall beside Bones’ head. The doctor flinches, and tries to shift away but Jim’s other hand is still pressed into his hip, his thumb slipped under the material to let his nail bite into the jut of his bone.

“If I have to take you back to the room and spend the week carving you up I will, but I was _trying_ to be romantic.” Jim grits out.

“And you want me to be enthusiastic, about spending the weekend tied to the bedposts?” Bones questions, huffing.

“Yes.” Jim states. “It sounds fucking awesome.”

“You need to grow up, Jim.” Bones huffs. “Get a grip.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not a silly kid anymore, you’re a man now and this is the real world. And I know it’ll break your fuckin’ ego but it doesn’t revolve around you.” Bones snaps.

“What has gotten into you?” Jim demand, drawing his fist out of the wall to shake Bones’ shoulder.

“I’m angry at you.” Bones says.

“Is that new?” Jim questions.

“Like this it is. Because right now I don’t care if you slit my throat, at least I wouldn’t have to put up with your bullshit any longer.” Bones says and Jim steps back, looks as if he’s been slapped. “Are we done?”

Jim just nods, but he needs to grasp for control. “Our dorm later though, Bones, nineteen-hundred.”

#

They move back into their apartment for the summer break, Jim spends most of his time negotiating his three year graduation with Marcus and buying Bones trinkets and flowers to set their relationship back on track. Bones is writing his PhD thesis and spends a lot of time sat on their bed, PADD in hand trying to ignore Jim’s overtures – but he can’t. He’s too soft at heart, ruled by his passions.

He starts to slowly come back to himself, puts up a more than half-hearted struggle when Jim tries to pin him to the mattress and a laugh even bubbles up from his throat when Jim explains his plans for universe domination.

“Might make Marcus into a nice rug for the palace foyer.” Jim grins.

“As long as you get rid of everythin’ from the waist down.” Bones agrees.

“I found this.” Jim starts, digging into his jacket pocket. “When I was out today, just down some of the lanes in Soma.” He unclasps his hand and presents his find to Bones.

Bones holds out his hand and Jim tilts his own until the chain and its pendant are safely settled in Bones’ palm. The chain is very thin, silver - maybe platinum or white gold - Jim didn’t ask. It’s the pendant, a _ring_ actually, attached that caught Jim’s eye. It’s a twisted style ring of the same metal and it’d fit on Bones’ ring finger for sure. Jim doesn’t believe in fate but this, well, it seems a little bit more than coincidence.

Bones slips his thumb and forefinger of each hand into the chain pulling them apart to measure the length of the chain. Then he lifts it, let’s the ring slide to the centre so he can study it. He slips it over his head, the ring coming to rest just under the skin of his bare sternum.

“Because you’re mine, Bones.” Jim whispers, kissing the doctor’s shoulder. “I want you to know I adore you, that I want you – that you’re important to me.” 

Bones looks down at his own chest, sees James written over his heart and the ring laying under it, even the faint outline of the ‘j’ Jim once carved into him and wouldn’t let him heal. He’s just a littering of Jim’s claims. It’s always told Bones that he’s just something to be owned, but maybe – and Jim can finally see the realisation in Bones’ eyes – this is just the show of Jim’s affections.

The eternally unspoken _I love you_ , _don’t go_.

“It’s been a while since we’ve played, Jim.” Bones says quietly, looking up at Jim through his lashes. Jim’s eyes almost roll back into his head. This is the alpha wolf finally lifting her tail, bowing her head and letting the alpha male take his fill. Jim draws Bones into a filthy kiss, trying to suck Bones’ soul out from his lungs.

Bones is hard.

“We can play tomorrow.” Jim says softly, his panting brings life to the silence. “I want to taste you.” He says, pressing Bones back down onto the bed. “Wanna blow you until the only word you know is-”

“Jim.” Bones breathes, as the blonde pulls the doctor’s pyjama pants down around his knees, material rubbing over him deliciously.

“ _Exactly._ ”

A chain and a blow job; and the tide settles. Jim can go back to breathing again and avoid feeling like his head is going to collapse in on itself from the pressure of Bones’ dispassion. Bones lets himself be used and abused, takes comfort in Jim’s touches, even the ones that hurt and finds the luxury in Jim’s dirty talk. He seems more malleable than before their fight but he’s also feistier. Bones smirks when he pushes Jim away, he bites and nips when Jim tries to snake a hand around his body, but he does so with renewed vigour, a kind of fluidity. It’s playfully erotic and flatters Jim’s desire for sexual dominance without hindering his appreciation for a physical challenge.

The banter, really, that’s what’s restored between them. Bones isn’t acting like a skittish, put-out-to-pasture mare and Jim’s a better stallion for it.

He even gets a hundred percent on his first second year assignment.

Bones brings home a bottle of Romulan Ale, hands it to Jim and begins to strip.

If this is his reward for excellence Jim is going to murder his way to perfect scores all year, if he has to.

“We should celebrate.” Bones says, lazy smile plastered to his plush, cock-pillow, lips.

“Am I gonna fuck you or are you gonna let me play?” Jim asks.

Bones closes his eyes. “Surprise me.”

Bones wears his love bites for the rest of the week, and has to break a first year’s hand when the punk thinks it’s an invitation to challenge their relationship. Jim only hears about it from the murmurs going around the flight hangar, people throw him tentative glances and he spends a lot of time glaring before he can get out of the sims and head for Medical.

Bones is running the regenerator over his cheek when Jim gets there, someone else is tending to the first year’s knuckles and just the sight of him makes Jim seethe. He’s blonde, beautiful Arian eyes and he’s got to be about eighteen too.

Jim takes out his phaser, the one he shouldn’t have, sets it to ‘kill’ and shoots the asshole in the chest. He gets this comically shocked look across his face and then collapses back on the bed.

“You okay, Bones?” Jim wonders, throat still tense.

“I’m fine.” Bones nods. “Better ‘an him anyhow.” 

“He cut you?” Jim says, looking at the feint line of a scar across the apple of his cheek.

“It’s nothin’, Jim. I broke his hand before he could do anythin’ else.” Bones assures him.

“Good.” Jim says curtly. “I’ve got a lecture but I’ll see you at six.”

“You takin’ me somewhere nice?” Bones drawls, cocking his hip against the biobed.

“We’ll see how well you behave first.” Jim smirks.

“Infant.” Bones huffs.

 

 

#

But as with everything, the equilibrium they’ve reached, the solidity they’ve mustered is soon tested. Their foundations are made to crumble.

Jim has been fighting to get them posted on the Yorktown since their first term, Marcus has been making him run through hoops for it, and he’s just got the nod. Subtle, tentative, still-mutable, but Captain Christopher Pike has said if he enjoys Jim’s dissertation then he’ll come aboard as First Officer.

Only Jim Kirk could graduate as a First Officer.

And Bones is part of the deal. Captain Pike has made that much clear – he knows the price of a good, _ethical_ doctor and his CMO is familiar with Bones’ work too. He’s impressed apparently, which is uncommon for Commander Phillip Boyce.

“I’m not going into space.” Bones huffs.

“Yes you damn well are!” Jim counters, biting down on Bones’ arse cheek. He thought telling Bones the good news half way through a rim-job would be a way to ease Bones into the idea but Bones just pulls away and starts tugging on his clothes.

“No Jim, I _can’t_.” Bones says, and he’s deadly serious. “I’m not being difficult, I’m not being disobedient, I’m not trying to test your patience, I _cannot_ go into space.”

“Aviophobia can be managed.” Jim says sternly.

“It’s an irrational fear.” Bones says. “ _Irrational_ , Jim.”

“Well you’re going to get over it.” Jim states.

“ _Fuck you_.” Bones snarls. “You remember the shuttle over here? I had to get drunk off my ass to even get on the damn thing, can you imagine what space would be like, could you even fathom that, Jim? Or are you too goddamn selfish to put yourself in my shoes. You might be a reckless motherfucker, you might not be scared of anything, but _I am_ and I’m _not_ going into space. You’re vicious, Jim, cruel even, but if you actually care about me as much as you say you do you’ll let me stay, at the end of our third year you’ll go and I won’t- I _can’t_.” Bones is panting, fear blowing his pupils wide.

“I’m not staying here and I’m not leaving you.” Jim says. “That is final.”

“You never learn.” Bones frowns. “Never know when to quit.”

“ _No_ no-win scenarios. You see a shrink, a fucking magician, I don’t care if you let a Vulcan fuck stoicism into you but you get over this.” Jim orders.

“I’m goin’ out.” Bones huffs, picking his shirt up off the floor and heading out to face the November chill, he’s not wearing a coat so he’ll be back soon enough. Bones can’t take the cold West Coast breeze – misses the Georgian sun too much.

#

Jim wakes up disoriented. It’s the winter break, he was meant to be meeting up with Bones at a bar – they haven’t spoken about their post-graduate commissions for nearly a month, it’s just something murky that hangs in the air between them. Jim’s letting Bones think he can have his own way for once, trying to get him back on side.

Jim didn’t make it to the bar.

“You’re awake.” Bones sighs. Jim can feel the pads of two fingers pressed into his wrist, he blinks a couple of times to get his bearings. Bones is there, looking like he’s been awake for a month straight, they’re in their room, Jim’s tucked under the coverlet.

He aches.

“What happened?” Jim asks, trying to lift his torso off the mattress but Bones’ other hand comes down to firmly keep him in place.

“You were stabbed, _eleven times_.” Bones says slowly, and he still hasn’t let go of Jim’s wrist.

“I don’t remember.” Jim admits. There’s a shuffle from the other corner of the room and he turns his head to see Chapel clearing something away. “Why’s she here?”

“Because I needed someone to help me with the surgery. You were bleedin’.” Bones says, frowning. “So much.” He sounds shocked, like he’s never seen blood before.

“Just more scars to add to my collection.” Jim scoffs. “How long was I out?”

“Two days.”

“And Chapel’s been here the whole time?” Jim questions.

“Yeah, she came as soon as I commed, you didn’t make it to the bar, I thought maybe you’d gone home. You were just on the path, bleedin’ out and babblin’ incoherently. I couldn’t get you to Medical, I didn’t know how you’d want to play it. It was safer here anyway.” Bones explains.

“Play it?” Jim murmurs.

“If you’d want people to know you’d been hurt or not. Especially since we don’t know who did it.” Bones clarifies.

“You and Chapel could have let me die.” Jim says, realisation dawning. “You’d have been free.”

“And unprotected, like a filly in spring.” Bones huffs.

“You and those damn metaphors.” Jim smiles tiredly, linking their fingers.

Bones doesn’t need to say anymore because Jim knows Bones could never kill him and that, in part, at least, Bones needs him on a psychological and emotional level too. That he wants Jim and all of the demands on his person that Jim makes.

“Chapel’s handy to have around then, hey?” Jim smirks, trying his best to leer at her but she just looks unimpressed.

“You’re weak as a kitten right now, Jim, don’t push your luck.” Bones huffs.

“Thanks, doc.” Jim says, and it’s genuine this time. “For patching me up.”

“I always do.” Bones counters softly.

Chapel seems to think it was a paid attempt, that the guy who did the stabbing isn’t necessarily the guy that wanted Jim dead. This comes as quite an out of the blue postulation and it leads Jim to think only one thing: Carol Marcus. She may not be directly involved but she knows and she’s not bothered about bragging, which means, no doubt, she has some sort of protection.

The Admiral.

Now that _does_ make sense. He’s an evil, warmongering bastard who’s threatened by Jim’s talent for execution and command. He wants Jim dead. Maybe Bones is even the cherry on top, because Marcus would undoubtedly be the first one to lock Bones up, cuffed to a bed and gagged, eternally kept loose with a plug so that he could dip in whenever he fancied, if something unfortunate should befall Jim.

“But if you kill him…” Bones starts. “That’s a lot of politics to deal with.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle though.” Jim shrugs. He’s glad they’ve still got six days left of the winter break to plot undisturbed. “Maybe you could act as bait.”

“Excuse me?” Bones scoffs.

“Lure him here, or get me access to his quarters.” Jim suggests.

“You’d really do that?” Bones questions. “Whore me out like some worthless slut.”

“You’re not going to let him fuck you.” Jim counters, as if the mere suggestion of it offends him.

“I damn well know I’m not.” Bones snaps. “But that’s what’d inevitably happen, I’d run to him, play coy and bashful, flatter him, be fawned on but to prove my integrity I’d have to choke on his dick. No. Fuck that Jim; I’m not your prostitute.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that you’re whatever I damn well say you are.” Jim grits out. “I just need you to get close.”

“No.” Bones shakes his head.

“He tried to _kill_ me!” Jim roars. “And he’ll try again until I’m a corpse that not even _your_ legendary hands could revive. And then he’ll have you anyway.”

“Don’t try and manipulate me, Jim.” Bones says. “Just because you know I have a heart.”

“I can hear it beating from here.” Jim agrees. “I need to see him dead, Bones.”

Bones rakes his hand through his hair, scrubbing it back over his face, massaging the tips of his fingers into his temple and then down under the purplish skin of his under-eyes. He’s exhausted. Jim leans forward and kisses his cheek. “You need to sleep.” He whispers. “I’ve got some things I need to do.”

“Be careful.” Bones says.

“I’m ready for it this time.” Jim smirks and Bones tries to light-heartedly roll his eyes.

He looks terrified.

This is why Jim comes to the conclusion that he’s going to have to do this carefully, for Bones’ sake. Jim’s made too many enemies to leave Bones on Terra without protection. Too many people want him because Jim has had him and that makes Bones like gold-dust. Jim doesn’t share him either, which makes him an even rarer commodity.

People would kill to desecrate Bones. They’ve already tried once.

So Jim lays his traps carefully, gets through the New Year, takes Bones out for his birthday, parades them around town like the unshakeable force they are. Alive and kicking. They fly through their February midterms and Bones brings a few errant assholes Jim’s way for him to cut up and torture for his nineteenth birthday because Bones has got an important surgery practical that evening.

Bones can be so thoughtful like that.

There are three of them, Marcus’ favourite fourth years apparently. It just so happened to be their mandatory physicals today and Bones begrudgingly refused to waste the opportunity. Jim’s going to enjoy testing his skill with an agoniser, _and_ testing their limits. They don’t last the night though – not a great shame, means he can clear up and have the room ready for when Bones gets home. Maybe he’ll even shower and order take out.

The sacrifices he makes for Bones are just _so_ taxing.

“We’re gonna play rough tonight.” Jim says when Bones walks through the door. He rolls his eyes and pulls his scrub top over his head, folding it before setting it over the back of his desk chair. Jim’s lying back on the bed, just in sweats with one ankle hooked under the other. He’s long-since stopped worrying about the scars that litter his body. Bones, while he slightly resents the manner of their forming, actually likes to know that Jim has taken his fair share of suffering too. They redress the balance slightly.

Bones has a thing about licking them, like a puppy trying to sooth his master’s wounds. Healing, fawning.

Just _sexier_.

“Jim, I’m exhausted.” Bones counters, going to their chest of draws to pull out his pyjamas.

“Close the draw, Bones.” Jim says. “And strip.”

“I’m not kidding, Jim, I-”

“Tough.” Jim snaps. “Because you’re gonna be awake for a long while yet.” The he repeats: “Strip.”

“An’ if I refuse?” Bones frowns.

“Then I’ll pin you to the floor and tear the clothes off you.” Jim grits out.

Bones doesn’t need to turn away from the door and look at Jim to know he’s serious. He always is when it comes to sex and violence, or the intermingling of the two. Bones pushes his scrub pants and boxer-briefs to the floor, stepping out of them and turning to Jim. Bones is beautiful like this, naked and vulnerable, a soft glow still clinging to his skin from the past summer. It’s not as golden as it once was and his small spattering of freckles have faded somewhat, but with that body under his will who is Jim to complain?

“How do you feel about fire, Bones?” Jim asks casually, slinking off the bed and over to the draw where he keeps a few _mystery_ belonging. He pulls out a small glass baton.

“No.” Bones says. “Pick something else.”

Bones tone is strange; he honestly means he’ll take anything else over this. It only makes Jim want it more.

“It’s only a bit of heat.” Jim says with a smirk. “We play with knives all the time.”

“Daddy used matches.” Bones says after a while, and gulps. “When he was finished, before he’d light his cigar, sometimes he’d use them too.”

“I see.” Jim says. Setting down the cylinder, hesitating. “Get a chair, bring it over here and sit down.”

“No fire, Jim?” Bones question.

“I’m gonna make you forget about him.” Jim counters, shaking his head and grasping the fire wand back in his fist. “I’ll make it feel good. Trust me.”

Bones swallows and pulls the backless stool out from the bathroom; he sets it in front of Jim and sits down, back completely rigid, arching away from Jim’s touch. His fingers are cold, they rub soothing circles over Bones’ back, which is warm by contrast but not as warm as it’s going to be soon. He pick up an isopropyl wipe from his box of goodies and wipes the burning fuel over the baton. These things have advanced a long time since their open flame routes but the one Jim’s acquired isn’t automatic, he’s always liked the idea that it could go wrong, that the flame could go out of control. It adds to the thrill. He has his grandfather’s old-fashioned lighter in the box; he takes it out, flicks it open and holds the flame for a moment, just watching, the faint smell of lighter fluid filling the air. He holds the baton by the protected end and lights the wand.

He softly rubs it in between the dip of Bones two shoulder blades, he flinches at first but then slightly leans back into it. Jim then begins to bounce the baton along the skin, going lower down Bones’ back where he knows the doctor is more sensitive.

Bones makes a sharp sound, a half-whimper, before he gasps.

His head rolls back and Jim dips down to kiss his forehead. He traces Bones’ ribs with the wand before pulling it away entirely. Bones sounds disappointed and relieved in equal measure.

“Don’t think about him, Bones. Think about me.” Jim says.

“It ain’t too intense.” Bones breathes, voice shaking in a way that slightly undermines what he’s just said but Jim listens for more. “Burn me, Jim. I _want_ you to burn me.”

Jim smiles, extinguishes the flame with a flick of a button at the base of the wand. He goes back into his draw, pulls out a glass. Bones frowns.

“It’s called cupping.” Jim grins, kissing Bones’ shoulder and then sucking a love bite into the heated skin. “You’ll love it, but I want you to lie on the bed.”

Bones glances over at the bed and nods, sets himself down. “Should I-”

“Lie all the way flat.” Jim says, Bones complies and Jim straddles his thighs, rubbing alcohol over one of the segments of his abdominal muscle, the adjoining segment to the one with Jim’s initial carved into it.

Jim takes the lighter out of his sweats again and directly ignites the skin. Bones tenses, turning his gaze not to watch but he can’t help himself when Jim places the cup over the flame. The glass condenses and the flame extinguishes but Bones’ abdomen has turned to gooseflesh and his cheeks are a livid red.

Jim can feel Bones, hard against his stomach as he leans over his body.

“You’re stunning.” Jim says, he repeats the process, over and over the same spot until his has to hold Bones’ hip down to keep him jerking away. He’s keening and whimpering and begging Jim to _stop_ and _please_ and _more, more_ , more. 

There is a dark purple ring by the time Jim is finished and Bones looks up at him, so wholesome and perfect and Jim’s wicked streak thickens. “Just one more.” He says. Taking his small Stanley knife out of the other pocket.

He carves a tiny ‘x’ in the centre of the ring and Bones shudders. He wipes the inside of the glass with alcohol this time and ignites it that way. When he places the rim of the glass against Bones’ bruised muscle he yelps and then moans at the feeling of blood drawing out of his skin.

Jim can feel him shudder through his orgasm, toes curling and pelvic muscles clenching.

He exhales. Jim wipes him over with an antiseptic wipe and then licks over the small cross, lapping up the new swell of blood.

Bones loosely wraps his calves around Jim’s back.

“Fuck me.” He demands.

#

Wet-cupping becomes something of a bi-monthly treat for the both of them. It’s one thing that they seem to be able to agree on. Usually Bones doesn’t ask for anything, just takes whatever Jim’s corrupt little brain can fathom and tries his best to fight against it before, snarling, snapping his jaw a bit and then relenting.

They’re ‘playfully’ wrestling when Admiral Marcus enters their dorm. Bones is actually holding back a smile while Jim tries to pin him to the floor. The doctor’s strong though and Jim won’t technically win the game until he can get Bones’ wrists held against the carpet.

“Combat practice, Kirk?” Marcus wonders and Jim causally turns around to face him, not moving from where he is straddled over Bones, their erections rubbing together.

“Of a kind, I guess.” Jim smirks. “Something I could help you with Admiral?”

“A month or so ago three of my top students went missing, their bodies have just been found massacred in the campus ponds.” Marcus explains, and it’s as close to an accusation as Jim is going to get.

“How unfortunate.” Jim scoffs.

“You touch my best and brightest again, Kirk, and it won’t be you who’ll be mending stab wounds.” Marcus says, eyeing Bones maliciously. “I can break your toys too. Remember that.”

 “We are your best and brightest.” Jim counters and then he stands, squaring his shoulders. He strides closer to Marcus, stopping so their faces are inches apart. “Threaten Bones again and I’ll cut out your fucking tongue.”

“Jim, leave it.” Bones says. The warmth of his torso is pressed up behind Jim’s back, a settling hand snakes around his waist.

“So loyal.” Marcus sneers. “If I had him he’d remain on his knees. And I’d cut your marks off him, feed the flesh to Archer’s mutt.”

It’s to bait him. Jim knows it but his hand shoots out around Marcus’ throat. The old man saw it come and presses his agoniser to Jim’s abdomen, there is only so much of it Jim can take but he holds onto Marcus until he can’t any longer. Bones is trying to pull him back but Jim stands firm. It’s a battle of wills and Marcus’ face is turning purple. Jim steps out of reach of the acidic fire trying to burn through him and pulls Marcus own knife out of his holster. Jim doesn’t manage to cut out his tongue but he does carve a line from the crease of the lips through the inside of his cheek on one side. It bleeds in gushes. But Marcus only roars and swipes for Jim again.

But he catches Bones in the ribs and the doctor’s fist smashes against his jaw, when he draws back there is blood over his knuckles but at least the Admiral is finally unconscious on the floor. Jim grins at Bones.

“I’m going to kill him.” Jim says softly, raising his hand to cup Bones’ cheek. Even though Jim is over six foot now Bones is still slightly taller than him. He smiles. “I can get away with it, I’m on the command track, but your reprimand will be much worse, I want you to go to Chapel’s and hold up there until I come for you.”

“What if-”

“Shh.” Jim hushes. “We just gotta keep our heads down until the summer. They might not find out straight away. I won’t put him in the pond.”

“Okay.” Bones nods. “You want the medkit?”

“No, I’m going to cut out his heart. I’ve got a knife.” Jim says. “Shall I keep it for you? To work on?”

“Okay, Jim.” Bones says softly, obediently, looking uncertain. “There’s a transplant cool box in the bottom of the wardrobe.”

“Get cleaned up and get some clothes together.” Jim instructs, bending to pull the Admiral’s body into the kitchen.

Bones does it all very reluctantly and repeatedly asks Jim if he should stay, make sure Jim doesn’t ruin the heart – _ain’t no damn use to me punctured_ – but Jim reminds him of his handy work with Jocelyn and it’s been three years since then. So eventually Bones goes and leaves Jim to make a masterpiece of the would-be Head of the Fleet. He wonders who’ll get the post now… If it’s Archer and his bloody Beagle the whole fleet will probably collapse in on itself – but who knows?

He hacks the body into pieces and takes each segment out in a small, inconspicuous bag, buries them in various places around campus and is finished by the time the dawn first breaks. He has about an hour’s sleep and a shower, picks Bones up from Chapels. Bones appears to have told her they were fighting again, quick-thinking and believable, because she eyes Jim with a cold sort of distain and her voice drips with poison.

“You should take better care of what’s supposedly yours, Kirk. Broken toys aren’t so fun.” She spits.

“Christine.” Bones chides.

“You’re right.” Jim smiles. “As always, Chapel.”

“Go and choke, Kirk.” She mutters, heading off down the hall to her own class.

“She used to be more scared of me.” Jim pouts.

“I guess she’s used to you now.” Bones shrugs, a rueful smile playing at his lips. “She just assumed, an’ I thought that might be a safer story to go with.”

“It’s okay.” Jim says. “I’ll see you later.”

Jim thinks they’ll get through the semester untouched but they don’t. Three weeks after Admiral Marcus goes _missing_ Jim receives a comm. informing him of a change in academic advisor and requesting his attendance at an informal meeting with one Captain Pike. Pike; who should be captaining the Yorktown but who’s now found himself on Earth instead. And now he’s looking for Jim.

It doesn’t sound promising.

Jim goes along to his meeting, it’s the beginning of April now, and it’s warm enough, he’s just in his black undershirt and red cadet trousers, Pike did say _informal_ after all.

“James.” Pike greets. “Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Captain Pike.” Jim nods.

“I’ll be straight with you, James, you and I both know you’re behind Alexander’s disappearance, and I’ll stretch as far as to say murder because I’ve taken lengths to become familiar with how you operate. While I’m not personally bothered by the loss you _have_ cost me my ship because the Brass want me back here dirtside to clean up after the bastard.” He pauses, looks highly unimpressed. “For that much I _am_ affronted and I’ll expect compensation.”

“I’m sure we can work something out.” Jim says mildly, trying to test the waters.

“The Yorktown is now being taken out of commission, but in two years a new ship will be ready, my ship. The _Enterprise_. I need to convince Barnett to let me have her.” Pike explains.

“And you think _I’ll_ be helpful in this situation?” Jim frowns, his brain can’t see the connections.

 “You’ve got a lot to offer. You might not be alive if you didn’t. I want you on my ship. You’re smart, you’re vicious, you’re creative – everything an XO should be.” He states. “But that doesn’t mean I’m above using you for my own gain or cutting your head off if you get above yourself.”

“Understood.” Jim says. “But I still don’t know how you’re going to use me to gain favour with _Barnett_. I’m pretty sure every Admiral from here to Paris hates me.” He grins.

“Isn’t that the truth?” Pike scoffs, shaking his head. “But not you.” Pike pauses. “Your doctor.”

“Barnett needs neural surgery?” Jim inquires tightly.

“Don’t be cute, James.” Pike counters. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Bones stays out of it.” Jim states.

“Barnett has certain appetites, the young doctor hits every marker like a check-list incarnate.” Pike explains.

“I don’t care.” Jim says. “He’s not having Bones.”

“Then you won’t be getting posted on the flagship.” Pike says. “I hear the _Excelsior_ is in need of a few Yeomen.”

“You bastard.” Jim hisses.

“There is a greatness in you.” Pike says. “And if you are half the man your father was you’ll be a force to be reckoned with. Do not let your dick get in the way of that. There are plenty more untouched warm bodies. Fresh and more obedient than your doctor.”

“You don’t know a thing about Bones.” Jim says. “ _He’s mine_.”

“But is he enough to give up your career for the sake of his virtue?” Pike mocks, gives Jim a pitying smile. “Good to know where your weakness lies.”

Jim’s heart is racing; he’s angry, but scared too. For himself, and for Bones. He’s a target now, whenever Pike wants to keep Jim in line. “Least there’s only one.” Jim counters.

“Perhaps you’re not the commander I’d thought you’d be.” Pike shrugs. “Dismissed.”

“We can work out something else-”

“ _Dismissed_.”

Jim walks out of Pike’s office with his head held high even if inside his resolve is crumbling. Would it matter if Bones spent a night with Barnett? It would just make claiming him back all the more fun… He doesn’t want to be stationed on a second tier ship. He _won’t_. He’ll be an officer of the highest calibre and he’ll only take a posting on the flagship. He wants it _so_ badly. A new ship, the first command team to grace it’s halls. Jim would christen her with Pike’s blood and Bones’ warm, velvety-smooth body.

He could sit in the Captain’s chair and rule the fucking world.

They just have to make _one_ sacrifice.

“Bones.” Jim calls, and he’s greeted with a mumble and the sight of him eating yesterday’s noodles, bare-chested, and practicing Andorian cardiovascular surgery simulations on his PADD. Jim comes up behind him and winds his hands around Bones’ waist, hands splaying over his chest, slipping a finger in the silver band.

“What’ve you done?” Bones huffs.

“Huh?” Jim questions. “What’d you mean?”

“You must have done something, you’re being too… _nice_.” Bones smirks, turning his face to kiss the side of Jim’s mouth.

“Will you let me tattoo you again?” Jim wonders.

“What will you draw?” Bones counters, an amused look in his eyes.

“I don’t know.” Jim says. “I want to do it somewhere it’ll hurt. Somewhere you’ll feel it.”

“Oh do you now?” Bones raises his eyebrow. “What’s brought all this on?”

“I can’t tell you.” Jim says. “But I want you to know I own you. Always.”

“Jim.” Bones frowns. “You’ll tell me or you ain’t inkin’ nothin’ on me.”

“Pike.” Jim huffs.

“As in the captain? What about him?” Bones’ brow furrows.

“He wants you to sleep with Barnett, so that he can get this new ship. Says I won’t get my commission if you don’t.” Jim explains.

“I see.” Bones says.

“What if we just kill them both?” Jim huffs, resting his forehead against Bones’ cheek.

“You can’t go around killin’ everyone, Jim.” Bones says.

“You’re very calm.”

“I never wanted to go into space anyhow.” Bones admits with a shrug.

“And what am _I_ supposed to do?” Jim questions.

“Pike will find another way to get his ship, he’s too clever to pin his hopes on the chance that you’d whore me out. You just need to make sure you make him unable to deny you your commission.” Bones says. “He’s wanted you as his XO for the last year. Maybe he’ll be impressed you stood your ground.”

“You’re coming into space.” Jim states.

“No I’m not, Jim.” Bones says with a rueful smile.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“No, Jim.” Bones huffs. “It’s not up for discussion.”

“Hold out your arm. I’ll get the needle.” Jim says. Bones huffs again and shakes his head, but he holds out his arm, and turns up the inside of his biceps, grabbing an antiseptic wipe from his medbag on the desk.

“Close your eyes.” Jim says when he’s back. Bones watches Jim dipping the needle into the ink and then he closes his eyes. He can feel the material of the transfer, feels the stab of the needle.

The pain is worse than before and Bones is quite vocal about it. Jim’s half hard by the time they’ve finished but he’s proud of his work, he wipes over the excess ink. “You can look now.”

“A circle?” Bones questions. “The outline of a _circle_.”

“It’s the _moon_.” Jim counters. “So you can get used to space.”

“I hate you.” Bones scoffs.

“I need a plan, Bones.” Jim says frowning.

“Carol’s close to Pike.” Bones says gently. “She mentioned it once, in passing. That she had the Captain in her pocket.”

“’s it a sexual thing?” Jim questions.

“You’ve seen Carol, what’d you think?” Bones snorts. “Apparently Marcus gave her to Pike on her sixteenth birthday. They’ve been together ever since, you know, when he’s on Terra.”

“Hmm.” Jim ponders that titbit. Maybe he can work with that. Carol wouldn’t be the first Marcus he’s killed – least this time he might gain something out of it.

#

Nothing more gets accomplished before the summer break, apart from Jim and Bones finishing at the top of their respective tracks - _of course_. Bones will have barely any classes in their third year, mostly medicinal tactics and legislation modules, which means he can spend his free time in the labs and earn more credits doing hospital shifts. Jim spends most of the summer studying so that he’ll be ready to take his fourth year classes alongside his third.

They acquire a slightly swankier dorm room as third year cadets and they make brilliant use of the bed during the first week of August when there are no classes timetabled.

But then it’s back to business - their last year at the academy – and everything Jim’s wanted almost come to its completion.

Jim keeps an eye on Carol, monitors her schedule, learns when she visits Pike and also learns the combination to his part of the Academy staff apartment complex. He hacks their correspondence and has learnt that even Carol has been asked to persuade Bones to offer himself to Barnett. She makes non-committal replies. Pike is surprised that Jim hasn’t caved yet, says he’d ‘underestimated’ Jim’s loyalty and dedication to his pet.

Jim hopes it’s a pleasant sort of surprised.

Pike certainly _won’t_ be pleasant once he’s realised that Jim’s holding Carol hostage.

He caught her just after a Weapon Development lab session. She’d walked out into the courtyard, she’d been alone, and Jim had seen his chance. Now she’s tied to a chair in their sitting room, bound and gagged, while Jim sends Pike his terms, it’s a coded comm. so Pike is going to have to work for this one. But he has no problem slitting Carol’s throat if Pike starts to play nasty. Bones’ll be home from his shift in an hour or so and Jim’ll probably get the third degree for not telling the doctor his plan.

S’not anything Jim won’t have heard before.

Carol glares at him, keeps her thighs clamped together in a way that has to be kind of painful. Jim shakes his head, assures her she’s _not his type_ and then replicates some cheese laden pasta dish and works on his dissertation.

Bones brings a bottle of whiskey in with him, he’s got that _in the mood_ look on his face and Jim wonders if Bones’ will explore his exhibitionist tendencies tonight.

“Carol?” Bones frowns and she shrugs and tips her chin in Jim’s direction. “Jim, why have you got Carol tie-” But he stops himself. “Oh.”

“Pike hasn’t commed back yet though, maybe she’s not that important.” Jim shrugs, taking another bite of his, now slightly cold, pasta.

“You’re gonna get us killed.” Bones huffs.

“You always say that.” Jim grins. “And yet here we are, still alive and kicking.”

“Could you untie her?” Bones counters.

“And let her leave?” Jim counters, shaking his head and then his PADD beeps. “Ooh.” He grins. “Pike’s not a happy bunny.”

“I’m goin’ for a shower.” Bones huffs.

“Maybe I’ll join you!” Jim calls after him but he won’t be able to because Pike’ll be here any minute.

Carol has this smug, _you’re-going-to-get-your-ass-handed-to-you_ look on her face and he really wants to slap her, but not yet, damaging the goods comes later he doesn’t want to break her before he’s had a chance to negotiate with Pike. So he just sneers and gracefully sets his blade out on the desk - her expression soon changes.

Jim sets down his PADD and his empty bowl and circles Carol’s chair, he moves a stray hair out of her face and she snaps her head to bite his hand. She’s not quick enough and he grabs her chin between her thumb and forefinger. His nails leave little white marks along her jaw and he hums appreciatively.

“I am sorry.” He smirks at her. “You’re only collateral damage, it’s nothing personal.” She glares up at him, nostrils flaring. “Pike threatened what was mine, you know that already though. Wanted me to give Bones to Barnett like a gesture of good will – this is just getting even. It’ll be a shame though, you are _very_ pretty.”

Jim straddles over her, his legs bracketing her thighs, he’s stood tall, back straight and he’s looming. Her lower lip trembles as his runs the flat of the blade against her cheek. Bones comes out of the bathroom in a fresh black undershirt and scowls at Jim.

“You don’t need to hurt her, Jim. Pike’s never touched me.” Bones says.

“That doesn’t have to mean I can’t get the first cut in.” Jim counters.

“He’s not gonna want you on his ship if you kill his girlfriend.” Bones huffs.

“Behave yourself, Bones.” Jim warns. “You let me handle this.”

“I won’t let you carve up my colleagues.” Bones grits.

“Well funnily enough you don’t have a choice; you’re welcome to leave though.” Jim snaps. And then the front door swishes open and Pike strides through, he looks calm, if slightly annoyed and he eyes Jim expectantly.

“Well?”

“Just proving I'm not the only one with a weakness.” Jim says, digging the tip of the knife against the apple of Carol’s cheek. “I want to be posted the Enterprise.”

“I know you do, but you failed to meet my requirements.” Pike counters, eyes not moving from Carol. Maybe he’s reading her like Jim can read Bones.

“So you’ll have a second rate First Officer because I wouldn’t hand Barnett my boy- _lover_ on a silver platter?” Jim questions. “Seems petty.”

“Politics is petty. You’re too arrogant, James, you need to learn your place. The rules apply to you, even if you choose to ignore them.” Pike barks.

“Touchy, touchy.” Jim tuts. “I guess if you can’t be convinced then you’ll just be on your way. You’re probably a very busy man, being a captain and all and as you can see I’m in the middle of something.”

“You touch her and your doctor won’t make it through the week.” Pike grits out.

“You don’t post me on the Enterprise and I’ll slit her throat.” Jim states. “Bones and I will take our chances, but she’ll be dead and you’ll be in want of a new pet.”

“You’re a _sonofabitch_.” Pike huffs. “And so damn impatient. You’re on the crew roster, James. Barnett took a lot of convincing; I owe _a lot_ of favours. And you’ll be making it up to me for years to come, but I was _impressed_. Impressed that you stood your ground. You have no respect for authority – it’s a pain in my ass, James but the fleet needs that kind of gumption.” Pike huffs.

“I want proof.” Jim says, drawing his blade back.

Pike smiles and takes his PADD from under his arm, taps the screen and outstretches his hand, Jim scoffs and rolls his eyes, stepping away from Carol to reach it. And Pike’s not lying, his name, and Leonard McCoy’s are both on the duty roster for the Enterprise, departing for its maiden voyage on June 3rd 2253\. Jim exhales a grin and hands back the PADD.

“I’m gonna be your XO.” Jim smirks.

“To my detriment, no doubt.” Pike rolls his eyes.

“She’s gonna rule the fucking galaxy.” Jim grins.

Bones must have untied Carol because suddenly she’s right next to him, she slaps him around the face and Jim’s hand automatically curls around her wrist. Pike makes a discontented sound and Carol throws him a rueful glance. Jim lets her hand fall and steps back.

“Keep your cool, Carol.” He says gently. “We’re all friends again now.”

“Come on.” Pike says, taking hold of Carol’s other wrist before any vitriol can escape her wretched mouth.

#

Jim has his first attempt for the Kobayashi Maru in February, he fails. His second is in April, he fails again. His third, and the last attempt the fleet are going to afford him, is in May.

“Why’re you so happy?” Bones says, meeting Jim at the top of the Command building stairs.

“I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about.” Jim smirks.

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” Bones rolls his eyes. They get to the bottom of the stairs and Jim begins to grin, Bones has this looks of dread in his eyes. Jim wants to laugh.

“I’m taking the test again.” He admits.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me.” Bones sighs.

“Yeah, tomorrow morning and I want you there.” Jim states.

Bones has been there for both of the last failed attempts too, because Jim’s been pushing helmsman classes and tactic seminars on Bones for any spare moment the doctor gets. He was positively furious the first time Jim pushed him into a flight sim and ended up throwing up in the back of the hangar. But Pike had heard about it and timetabled weekly CBT sessions and he’s slowly but surely learning to deal with his aviophobia - the therapist, in a comm. that would be considered gross misconduct in any other society, suggested Jim focus on Bones’ phobia and incorporate it into their exchanges of reward and punishment.

In other words, fuck the fear out of him.

“You know, I got better things to do ‘an to watch you embarrass yourself for a _third_ time.” Bones huffs. “I’m a doctor, Jim, I’m busy.”

“Bones, it doesn’t bother you that nobody’s past that test?” Jim questions, holding him close by the biceps.

“It’s the Kobayashi Maru, no one passes the test and nobody goes back for seconds, let alone thirds.” Bones scoffs, trying to shrug out of his grasp.

“I gotta study.” He smirks, biting Bones’ cheek.

“Study, my ass.” Bones mutters.

“Ah, we agree.” Jim chuckles, pulling Bones along the path to their dorm-room.

This time his attempt is fool proof. Bones even spares him an impressed smile, quickly shaking his head when Jim catches him in the act. Then he looks up at the glass that separates the sim room and the control panel and grins: “Anything else?” He asks.

Pike smirks down at him and Jim knows he’s made good.

And then, four days later, at a formal assembly in front of a room of seething, jealous cadets, to hear Pike announce: “for your unique solution to the Kobayashi Maru, it's my honour to award you with a commendation for original thinking”, is just the icing on the cake.

The medal is a silver star attached to a purple ribbon with a two thin silver lines at one end.

Jim heats the metal plate and presses it into Bones’ pectoral muscle as he fucks him that night. He’s left with the ‘fleet’s command insignia inside the outline star with Jim’s initials - _JTK -_ burned into his skin. It’s one that’ll heal, Jim thinks, like the ‘j’ that used to lie over his abdomen, it’ll fade.

 _But_ , Jim realises, he’s going to be around Bones for a long time to come. Enough time to make more marks, _lots_ more. Scars, burns, ink. Bruises, scratches, bites.

And Bones will be around to take them.

He won’t always do it willingly.

He’ll undoubtedly grumble.

But he’ll lie back and take it.

And right now, as Jim Kirk is standing on the precipice of his future, he _knows_ , with _certainty_ , that’s all he’ll ever need.


End file.
